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Buzz Kill

Millie Ostermeyer’s plan to coast through senior year is right on track – until she stumbles upon the bludgeoned body of Honeywell High’s despised football coach and her dad is accused of murder. Suddenly, Millie’s failing grades in French class, string of boring stories for the school paper, and dreams of backpacking the world, post-graduation, are taking a backseat to clearing her father’s name.

With only a stack of old Nancy Drew books to guide her, Millie sets out to solve the murder – starting with an investigation into the Honeywell High Stingers’ hot new quarterback, who has a curiously elusive past.

Is Chase Albright just an ultra-private snob? Or is Millie falling, reluctantly but hard, for a cold-blooded killer?

And can a slacker student journalist who is nothing like poised and perfect Nancy Drew really save her father, especially when the evidence Millie unearths – and a bombshell of betrayal – casts everyone around her in doubt?

From the Book...

“Millie...” Chase pulled back slightly, so I could see his eyes. He seemed surprised by my comment. “I wanted to dance with you.” He started to smile again. “Even before Ms. Beamish made her move, unleashing your inner Doberman.”

“Chase?”

“Yes?”

I dropped my voice to the merest whisper, not believing what I was about to say – but preparing to say it, anyway. “Could you – just for this evening – not refer to me as any kind of dog – especially the vicious, fighting breeds – or compare my eating habits to those of any member of the football team, be it a fullback or a tackle or a kicker, even?”

He started to speak, but I held up one hand, signaling that I wasn’t done. “And, last but not least, could you just shut up for the rest of this dance, because...” I hesitated, then forged ahead. “Because some perverse part of me likes you, Chase Albright. As more than just a buddy.” His blue eyes widened, so I kind of wished I’d stopped earlier. Like maybe at my bedroom door, before even walking down the stairs. But what could I do except finish, at that point, by saying, quietly, “I know you don’t like me back – but just let me, for a minute, like you.”